Jeanne of the Marshes eBook

The storm broke upon them. Another peal of thunder
was followed by a downpour of rain. He caught
hold of her hand.

“Run as hard as you can,” he said.

They reached the cottage, breathless. He ushered
her into his little sitting-room.

“Has your friend gone?” she asked.

“Yes!” he answered. “He went
last night.”

“I am glad,” she declared. “I
wanted to see you alone. You said that he was
lodging here, did you not?”

Andrew nodded.

“Yes,” he said, “but he only stayed
for a few days.”

“You have an extra room here, then?” she
asked.

“Certainly,” he answered, wondering a
little at the drift of her questions.

“Will you let it to me, please?” she asked.
“I am looking for lodgings, and I should like
to stay for a little time here.”

He looked at her in amazement.

“My dear young lady!” he exclaimed.
“You are joking!”

“I am perfectly serious,” she answered.
“I will tell you all about it if you like.”

“But your stepmother!” he protested.
“She would never come to such a place.
Besides, you are Mr. De la Borne’s guests.”

“I do not wish to stay there any longer,”
she said. “I do not wish to stay with my
stepmother any longer. Something has happened
which I cannot altogether explain to you, but which
makes me feel that I want to get away from them all.
I have enough money, and I am sure I should not be
much trouble. Please take me, Mr. Andrew.”

He suddenly realized what a child she was. Her
dark eyes were raised wistfully to his. Her oval
face was a little flushed by her recent exertions.
She wore a very short skirt, and her hair hung about
her shoulders in a tangled mass. Her little foreign
mannerisms, half inciting, half provocative, were
forgotten. His heart was full of pity for her.

“My dear child,” he said, “you are
not serious. You cannot possibly be serious.
Your stepmother is your guardian, and she certainly
would not allow you to run away from her like this.
Besides, I have not even a maid-servant. It would
be absolutely impossible for you to stay here.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She dropped her arms
with a weary little gesture.

“But I should love it so much,” she said.
“Here I could rest, and forget all the things
which worry me in this new life. Here I could
watch the sea come in. I could sit down on the
beach there and listen to the larks singing on the
marshes. Oh! it would be such a rest—­so
peaceful! Mr. Andrew, is it quite impossible?”

He played his part well enough, laughing at her good-humouredly.

“It is more than impossible,” he said.
“If you stayed here for any time at all, your
stepmother would come and fetch you back, and I should
get into terrible disgrace. Mr. De la Borne would
probably turn me out of my house,” he added
as an afterthought.

She sat down and looked out of the window in despair.
The storm was still raging. The skies were black,
and the window-pane streaming with rain-drops.
She shivered a little.